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New Orleans was known for its Creole cuisine, distinct music, unique dialect and of course, Mardi Gras was something of an enigma for Quinn who had been in the city for a little over ten years. He migrated to The Big Easy after his mother passed away, leaving his birthplace of Ireland. Having been born to an Irish mother and an American father, he had dual citizenship and had often longed to see his father's home in Louisiana.
Normally, when travelers or first-time residents went to New Orleans, they had a tough time understanding the strange city. It appeared like no other place in the United States. Quinn was one of these travelers, first as a tourist and then quickly becoming a resident after finding old relatives on his father’s side. The first puzzling impression of the city usually came from the appearance of the French Quarter near many of the city's hotels. The size of the district surprised even those who have journeyed through the remaining United States. Few visitors are used to such a mess of people shuffling at all hours of the day and night in the center of the city. They promptly learned that bars have no closing hour, that the food is spicy, and that the music happened almost everywhere. They may have also taken note that the locals talk weirdly, but few have southern accents. Quinn’s lilting accent seemed to fit right in, even if it wasn't quite the same, as residents welcomed him with open arms.
When Quinn first found his roots, so to speak, he had left behind a lucrative position as a biology professor in Belfast. After just a few months of traveling the southern portion of Louisiana, also known as Acadiana, he found a tenured job at the private college of Tulane, held within the bustling city of New Orleans. He lived just off campus, which was ideal for him, as he could use public transportation and his feet, with no need for a car. However, the flat didn’t come equipped with a washer and dryer, so he often strolled late at night to the laundromat when the insomnia was too much to overcome.
This is where he found himself on this warm night, term papers spread upon the folding table as he waited for the washers to finish, so he could transfer his clothes to the dryer and perhaps go next door for some crawfish etouffee. Quinn knew he should skip the food and finish grading his student’s papers before Windu had his head on a pike. He was late last semester and never heard the end. Although he adored his job, speaking and guiding young students, he hated the politics that seemed to follow. He could always forgo sleep instead of grading the papers.
Just as he circled Tommy Boudreaux’s “D-” the chime on the door went off and the quiet clinking of the washers was interrupted by several mumbles, groans, and Scottish cuss words. Quinn looked up into the gorgeous pair of Gray-blue eyes as he witnessed the young ginger strip out of his white button-down shirt and head for an open washer.
“I don’t even know how to get this out!” The youthful man cussed even more than before as he tossed the shirt into the open lid and unzipped his trousers, suddenly realizing he was in public. He regarded Quinn and turned a lovely shade of cherry-red. “I’m sorry, I…” Benjamin stopped as quickly as he began, staring at the older gentleman, his graying hair pulled back into a thick full ponytail.
Quinn noticed the fellow had blood stains on his face, shirt, and pants, and he promptly jumped from his table and walked toward him. “Are you OK?” He went to reach for the lad, before realizing that he might not want a stranger in his personal space and pulled back.
“I’m fine. My clothes, however, are not." By the sound of the Scottish accent, not a local either, he held his head back, realizing that his nose was still bleeding. "I'm sorry, I was on my way to my hotel and was robbed." He let out a breath, wondering how he would make it to his morning appointment and look presentable. He could purchase clothes, but that wouldn't help until the stores opened in the morning.
"That is horrible and doesn’t set a good impression for a new arrival in our city." Quinn slipped into his pocket and pulled out a small handkerchief and handed it to the man. "Please, take this and tilt your head back. It will help. It doesn't look broken at least." Quinn tapped his own nose that had been broken a few times and never set.
"Thank you, Mr...."
"Quinton Jinn, but please call me Quinn."
"Benjamin Kenobi, but everyone calls me Ben." The lad once again turned a lovely shade of pink, and Quinn wondered how often he could bring that color out of him. Was he trying to flirt with a stranger, half his age, inside a laundromat?.
"I would say that it is a pleasure to meet you, but this doesn't seem like the happiest of situations." Quinn waved at the man's clothes. "I'm assuming they took your suitcase, along with any change of clothes?"
Ben nodded and peered down at the shirt in the washer. "I don't even know how to get the blood out and I have a very important interview tomorrow." Ben wondered why he was unloading all this onto a perfect stranger, but the man had a commanding presence that calmed him.
Quinn brightened and held up a finger, quickly dashing out of the establishment and next door to the 24-hour dinner. He asked the night manager and owner, Dexter, for two bowls of etouffee, some sweet tea with lemon, a few packs of salt and a small bowl of baking soda. Walking back into the laundromat, Quinn looked at the miserable lad, head in his hands, his face alight with worry. "Never fear, we'll get that blood out. Off with those pants."
Ben let out a tiny squeak at those words, his ears and neck joining his cheeks in a deep blush, why couldn't he control himself? "I have nothing," he trailed off as he watched Quinn laugh deeply. Oh, how that rumble did things to him, things that wouldn't be appropriate when half-naked in the laundromat. Ben watched as Quinn went to the dryers and pulled out a large gray t-shirt and handed it to him.
"It's still damp, but it will be big on you allowing some modesty." Ben smiled and shed his pants, throwing on the shirt. Quinn was right, it was more of a nightgown on him, but at least he wasn't sitting in anything but his pants.
"Thank you, but I still don't know how to get the blood out."
Quinn let out a cheerful rumble and handed him a container of food. Ben opened the container and the smell of spice and seafood was heavenly. He hadn't eaten since arriving and his mouth watered. "This smells glorious, thank you, but how is this going to help my pants?"
"The food is for you to enjoy, I will take care of your pants." Quinn got the lemons, tea, salt, and baking soda from his bag and headed for the nearby sink. "First you always use cold water. Mix the baking soda into a paste and rub on the stain." He began, just like he was lecturing his students. He then set the pants over the sink and grabbed his own container or food. "We leave it to sit for a few minutes and enjoy Dexter's best meal, Crawfish Etouffee. I hope you aren't allergic to seafood?"
"Not at all, this smells wonderful. Thank you, Quinn." Ben beamed. Quinn felt his heart tug, wanting to see that smile more.
"You are welcome. After we eat, we will rinse the stains in cold water and rub the lemon and salt in, after that, we can put them in the washer." They both dug into their meal, neither saying much, just enjoying the company and great food.
Ben swallowed his last bite and let out a soft moan. "That.was heaven."
"No, that was Nawlins." Quinn gulped, wondering what else could make this beautiful creature moan.
"Haha, funny," Ben mumbled.
After their meal, Quinn finished rubbing out the stains and started the washer for his new acquaintance. Ben glanced over at the folding table and motioned to the papers. "I'm sorry that I interrupted your work."
"Honestly, it was a blessed break from Tommy Boudreaux's "D-" paper on how football can save the environment. Any break from that is welcome. It's the one thing I don't understand in this state, everything can be explained or tied to football, well their American football."
"You're a professor?" Ben straightened out.
"Yes, I'm a biology professor at Tulane. My department head, Windu, who incidentally is a pain in my ass will have my head if I don't have these papers graded and posted soon, but I find I don't care at the moment." Ben swore he saw Quinn wink at him.
"Wait, who?" Ben stood up, stock still and felt the need to cover up.
"Mace Windu, head of the science department at Tulane. Are you okay, Ben? You are turning absolutely white." Quinn moved closer to Ben, offering him a hand if the lad was feeling faint.
"This can't be happening," Ben mumbled and pulled further away. "I'm sorry Mr. Jinn." Quinn frowned at the formality, wondering what he had done.
"Please, it's Quinn. Did I offend you, somehow?" Ben looked up into the confused, sad eyes and cursed his awkwardness.
"You didn't, I'm sorry. What a mess! The reason I was so upset about my clothes is that I have a job interview tomorrow at Tulane with Professor Mace Windu. I was hoping to be the new Environmental Science professor and here I am half naked, flirting with one of the top professors in his department!"
"Flirting?" Quinn looked hopeful. "Your interview is not with me, Ben. Mace Windu has never listened to anything I've had to say on any subject, much less, department hiring. Besides, it takes two to tango."
Ben let his hands fall to his side, exhaling a breath as his anxiety dropped. "I'm sorry, this is just...this is not how I pictured this trip going. I wanted this job, want this job."
"Be yourself, Ben. Mace is a fair, if stubborn, man. He will look at your resume, ask his questions and determine if you are a good fit for our team. If he cared only about outward appearances, do you think he'd have hired me? At best the kids describe me as a spaced-out hippy with my long gray hair. I often skip the sports coat for a comfortable polo or t-shirt, I couldn't care less about outward appearances."
"You think I have a shot, even if the stains don't come out?" Ben leaned in closer, his eyes smiling with mirth.
"If there are stains to be seen, be honest with him. Mace will understand and probably take it personally that his city was responsible for such a travesty." Quinn really wanted to reach out and touch this lovely creature to calm his fears. When did he ever get so protective over strangers?
"Thank you for everything. If I held the city accountable for the mugging, I would also hold it in high regard for the kindness you’ve shown me." The two men sat with each other and bantered back and forth, waiting for their clothes to dry, shoulders touching as they got to know each other.
The dryer buzzed, and they both jumped up to check their results. Quinn got their first, using his long legs to his advantage. He pulled out Ben’s pants and shirt and held them up to the light. “Tada! Maybe I have a job as a dry cleaner if Biology doesn’t work out?”
Ben grabbed the shirt and carefully looked it over. “I can’t believe it, it’s as good as new!” Without a second thought, he reached out to Quinn and gave him a tight embrace. His long arms wrapped around him in return. Quinn couldn’t help but enjoy the smell of vanilla and Ben invading his senses. He could get used to this.
Ben withdrew, a shy smile plastered to his lips as he started to get dressed once again as Quinn folded his own clothes and placed them into a worn duffle, the papers once again stacked neatly and placed in a briefcase. “I guess this is goodbye.” Ben held out his hand.
Quinn always thought New Orleans was a melting pot of all sorts of characters. It was that life essence of each individual that made New Orleans like no other city, it was the ability to make strangers come together and help each other when needed. Quinn took a hand in his own and pulled Ben into a short embrace, kissing his cheek. They both hoped to meet again in the morning with something to celebrate. In the Big Easy, there was always a celebration to be had, no matter the time of day!